


Bring Me a Dream

by Damalia (Achrya)



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Dream Sex, Hand Jobs, M/M, Oral Sex, Rimming, Threesome - M/M/M, Witch Marco Bott
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-17
Updated: 2016-06-17
Packaged: 2018-07-15 13:44:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7224772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Achrya/pseuds/Damalia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marco is a witch who can enter other people's dreams. He doesn't do it much but when he sees Jean having what he thinks is a nightmare he decides to help. Only it turns out Jean is just kind of a pervert who thinks the sudden appearance of a second Marco in his dream is the best thing ever. </p>
<p>Alt. Title: Marco Bodt and the Sex Dream<br/>Alt Alt Tile: Marco Bodt and the Dream Threeway</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bring Me a Dream

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fishy_noot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishy_noot/gifts).



> For Fishy_noot aka [Pololo](http://pololotp.tumblr.com/) who does amazing arts that you should totally check out, plskthx.
> 
> I suppose in a technical sense this is dub-con, since Jean (maybe) doesn't realize it's actually Marco. (or maybe he does. We'll talk about it at the end.) so if that squicks you then...you know. Fair warning. 
> 
> Some Reibert mentions.

 All witches were born with at least one natural ability to go along with their ability to use and manipulate magical energy. For Marco that ability was dream walking, which was exactly what it sounded like. He could poke into the dreams of anyone within a certain radius and, if he was so inclined, become part of them.

He was rarely so inclined. Hell, he rarely used the ability at all unless a fellow witch asked him to. It was useful for delving into lost memories and or sleeping visions but beyond that Marco considered it useless. Fire generation or precognition or talking to animals would have been much cooler in his opinion. Dream walking was just...weird and invasive and rarely useful.

He didn't visit people's dreams without permission because it seemed like a violation you him. And if he accidentally went wandering, which had happened from time to time, he didn't watch and he didn't meddle. People deserved privacy in their heads and it just wasn't his place to mess with that.

He was firm in that belief.

Except here he was, sitting up on his bunk and watching his friend Jean suffer through a nightmare and wanting nothing more than to help. He'd been asleep himself but he was a light sleeper by nature and the creaking Jean's bunk was doing as he tossed and turned had woken him up. At first he'd just sleepily cast a sound altering spell to spare the others in the cabin from the noise then rolled over to go back to sleep but that was when Jean had started whimpering and letting out quiet fearful moans.

He knew he shouldn't interfere. Not even for Jean, who’d he'd been ‘magic camp’ friends, and eventually all year long friends, with since their first year back when they were 8 and maybe sort of thought was really cute now that they were 16 and Marco had spent the school year having a super gay awakening. And all of that meant nothing because it wasn't right to go into someone's head without permission and, if anything, he should just...wake Jean up. And they could talk it out, like normal non-magical people would do, and maybe he could help that way. That was much better than playing dream Peeping Tom.

He looked down at Jean, taking in his flushed skin, the way his brow was furrowed, and frowned as another breathy whimper fell from his lips. He was on his stomach and the sheets were so tangled around him it was a wonder he was able to move around at all.

It did look like a really had nightmare though. He hated to think something had Jean so upset; he looked like he was in pain!

And if he went in for a second he could smooth it over into something softer and nicer just this once that wouldn't be so bad. Jean had been looked really tired lately, like he hadn't been sleeping well, so keeping him asleep and talking to him in the morning would be better, right? He needed rest after all. ...plus a little peek would give him insights into the nightmare so he could help Jean work through it in the morning.

He was doing it to help Jean, not to be some kind of creeper, so...that was okay wasn't it?

Jean groaned, face twisting up as his body trembled, and Marco’s mind was made up. A quick in and out to help Jean rest better. It was fine.

He reached across the small gap between their beds. He didn't need physical contact but it would strengthen to connection between them and make it easier to turn Jean's nightmare into something nicer.

He touched his friend's arm, felt how overheated he was and that a sheen of sweat that had formed on him, and then the world blurred.

It was sort of like free falling. One moment he was sitting in the edge of his bed, leaning towards Jean, and the next he’d was breathless, tumbling through nothingness, and deafening silence was making his ears throb. His stomach dropped and his eyes watered and it was scary for that strange empty split second.

He tripped over his feet and just managed to not fall into the wood surface he found himself standing on.

It was the ‘jumping’ dock he realized after looking around, one of three docks total and elevated a few feet above the water and extending about ten feet over the lake to allow for jumping and diving. The other two docks were lower and used for sending the boats off.

The camp's lake, clear blue water that sparkled like jewels under the high sun, stretched out in front of him. The boathouse was behind him, the canoes and kayaks stacked and proper up like they always were, chest full of life vests sitting right by the boat house.

He didn't see Jean and was confused at first. Where was his friend and what about the dock could be causing him so much distress? He'd thought the water was Jean's favorite place here, it at least the place he complained about least.

“Ah!”

He looked down in alarm. That had sounded like Jean and it had come from below his feet. He hurried to hop off off the dock and into the soft sun warmed sand, then turned around. There was space below the dock, where the beach started to slope down, and there was just enough space to sit under it without hitting your head while letting the water lap at your feet.

Supposedly campers, and some of the counselors liked to sneak out after lights out to fool around. Marco had never had the pleasure. At least not in real life.

In Jean's dreams however he was most definitely having that ‘pleasure’, really enthusiastically. Under the dock. With Jean. Who was lacking some articles of clothing that were generally considered important.

What the hell?

Jean was on his back in the sand in nothing but a pair of boxers briefs, with his arms and legs locked around a Marco that his mind must have conjured. They were kissing, really kissing, messy and hard and he could see _tongue_. Jean’s fingers were buried in Dream Marco’s hair, tugging at black curls, and Dream Marco was between his legs, pushed so tightly to Jean that Marco couldn't see any gaps between them.

Dream Marco was shirtless and

..well, kind hot. Like him but better. Not different, really, but the little thing Marco disliked about himself weren't there. No weird cowlick, his freckles seemed nice and even not all blotchy, he was perfectly tanned instead of red and peeling because he'd forgotten sunscreen that day, and if his back and arms were anything to go by he was ripped. (Marco looked away from where Jean was happily tasting the inside of Dream Marco's mouth to look down at himself. He was...okay, went he?) He wondered if this was Jean making him more palatable or if, maybe, this was just how Jean saw him?

Hot instead of awkward and sunburned?

“Mmm- Marco?”

Oh. Uh oh.

He looked up from his silent contemplation of his body to find Jean staring at him. He could see the confusing on Jean's face and felt the world shift beneath his feet, a sign that the dream was growing thin. Jean could see that something wasn't right here, that two Marcos didn't belong, and it was taking a toll of his dream world.

Dream Marco shifted his attention to Jean's neck, unbothered by the appearance of another him and focused on getting Jean to make all sorts of noises that were making it hard for Marco to think rationally.

Which was all fine and good for a dream construct he supposed. Marco however was a real person and thus he was kind of bothered. Or, well...he wasn't sure what he was.

A little turned on and pretty fucking pleased that he was featuring in Jean's sex dreams?

Except this wasn't the time to celebrate, this was the time to fix this and carefully retreat. If Jean woke up while he was still in his head things could go badly, with the worse case scenario being him unable to get back out. He liked Jean plenty but he really didn't want to be stuck in his brain.

So. How did he fix this? Just pulling out was risky, he might be able to slip right out or he might get stuck on something. No, that wouldn't work. Maybe he could-

“Am I dreaming?” Jean asked. He had a hand on Dream Marco’s chest, pushing him back so he was no longer biting red marks onto Jean's neck, and was staring at him very intently.

“Um. Yes?”

“Oh. This is a really good dream then.” Jean looked pensive as he spoke then, shrugging, held out a hand in clear invitation. Marco stared at it blankly; the world trembled. “You're coming over here, right? With us?”

...shit.

he wasn't sure if he was impressed by Jean's ability to accept the strangeness of his dream or bothered that he went straight to ‘trying get into his pants’. ...okay, he wasn't that bothered. Kinda curious about how often Jean had dreams about more than one of him.

Dream Marco, no longer being pushed away, surged forward to return to his original task with clear enthusiasm. He watched as hands that looked like his touched Jean and a mouth shaped like his found Jean’s skin again. He sucked and licked at Jean’s neck and collarbone while tugging at his underwear. Skin paler than everywhere else was exposed as the fabric was pushed down to Jean’s thighs. Marco still couldn't see anything, Dream Marco's body and the way Jean’s leg was bent in the way, but Jean's open mouthed gasp and the way his hips jerked when the other's hand found a spot between them didn't leave much question about what was happening.

If there had been any doubt the way Dream Marco’s lower arm started moving, pumping up and down slowly, dispelled it.

This was something he shouldn't have been watching and yet he couldn't tear his eyes away. Was this what Jean would look like underneath him, the face he would make when Marco touched him? Hadn't he thought about this very thing under the cover of darkness and his blankets, jerking himself off to shameful thoughts of his friend? Didn't he think about kissing Jean, touching him, seeing his eyes get dark and heavy, and there it was on front of him.

Marco's mouth went dry as he watched the other him flick his tongue out to drag over Jean's nipple. Jean’s mouth formed a small O and his hips rocked up. Another lick, slow and swirling around the stiff nub, and then Dream Marco was closing his lips over it. The hand not between Jean and Dream Marco swept up to first rub at and then pinch and roll Jean's other nipple.

He wondered what Jean's skin tasted like.

Jean's heels and fingers dug into the sand; he was breathing hard and Marco could see sweat beading on his sun-kissed skin. He was sweating too and not from being under the bright not-real sun. His heart was racing and there was no denying that he was getting hard watching the display in front of him. That he was watching something private seemed less important compared to the knowledge that this was what Jean dreamed about, the two of them like this, and in aching detail.

How could they both want this? Why hadn't either of them said anything? Why was he suddenly angry that some dream version of him was between Jean's legs and doing all the things he wanted to do? Because he was a little angry, jaw clenching as Dream Marco shot Jean a filthy grin then move his mouth to the other nipple, sucking bright red marks over tan skin as he went.

...was he jealous? Jealous of...himself? A figment of Jean's imagination?

“Marco?” Jean called his name again, voice raspy and pleading. “Please.”

He knew he should be trying to get out not fall deeper into the dream but, as if we're a puppet and Jean were pulling his strings, he crouched down into the sand. It was wondering warm and dry this far up but didn't feel exactly right. No grit, no sharp rocks that always seemed to find bare skin; it was almost soft under his hands.

He knew he was being affected by Jean's dreams, swept up in it and following the script. He could have resisted, at least normally he could, but-

When he'd crawled close enough Jean's hand darted out to grab onto his sleep shirt. He was hauled forward, nearly losing his balance and tipping forward into the other two, and then Jean was kissing him hard. It wasn't quite right for a moment, nose bumping and teeth mashing against the back of his lips but Jean tilted his head and smoothed a hand over shoulder and then he was falling into it.

Things tended to just sort of work in dreams if the person in charge wanted them to.

Jean's lips were warm and slick under Marco's and there was a tongue sliding over the seam of his lips, hot breath puffing into his mouth, and he was pulled closer. It was Marco who made the kiss more, licking into Jean's mouth, tasting salt and mint as their tongues slid against each other, trapping the other's bottom lip with his teeth to tug and suck at it. It was messy and wet and _perfect_.

He'd thought about kissing Jean a lot, about as long as he'd cared about kissing other people, and he'd pictured it so many different ways in so many different places but somehow Jean smiling against his mouth, pliant and willing to follow him, wasn't one of them. But, dream or not, it was amazing.

He put a hand on Jean’s chest to push him back into the sand. He kept their mouths sealed together as best he could, following Jean down, and arms wrapped around his neck. His name was said, panted into his mouth, and Marco wanted to lick the sound out of Jean's mouth to keep.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw the other him sliding down Jean’s body, dropping kisses and nuzzling his way over Jean’s flat stomach and the light dusting of wiry hairs that started just below his bellybutton.

Jean’s dick was visible now, no longer hidden away by Dream Marco’s body, and Marco, who was willing to acknowledge he was now in ‘shameless’ territory, looked. He had, more than once, seen Jean naked before (it happened when you spent summers is such close proximity) but not like this. His dick was hard, curving up and resting against his belly, head flushed an almost angry red, precome beading from the slit.

A freckle spattered hand was curved around the shaft, dragging up and down in a slow even rhythm. Dark brown eyes darted up to look at them and as Marco’s stomach flipped, the other himself tongue swept out from between his lips to lick over the head with exaggerated slowness. Jean grunted then pulled back from Marco, who'd stopped kissing in favor of staring, to blink up at him. The arms around his neck tugged, telling him what Jean wanted as clearly as if he'd used words, and okay, he was all about the kissing built how was he supposed to concentrate on anything but the image of himself wrapping his lips around Jean’s cock?

Or the way Jean’s body went rigid for a moment and then melted as he moaned Marco's name and made it sound so needy and filthy. It got him to snap back to the proceedings, slamming his mouth against Jean's and crowding closer. Instead of being on his knees he shifted around so he was stretched out next to Jean on his side. His shirt came off, tossed somewhere when they stopped to breathe, and then it was warm sweaty skin against skin and long fingers touching his chest and back.

He kept an eye on the other him as well but how could he not? Dream Marco’s eyes had shut at some point, long lashes brushing over red cheeks, and there was nothing to focus on except Jean's cock sliding in and out of his mouth. Red lips were stretched wide and drool dripped out over them and Jean’s dick every time the shaft was fed deeper into his mouth. When he slid up it was with a slurping noise, like someone sucking on a popsicle.

He seemed to know what he was doing, if Jean's squirming was anything to go by, why put him ahead of Marco who was still at the ‘trading handjobs with friends who, sadly, weren't Jean’ stage in life.

Dream Marco’s hand moved over what wasn't in his mouth and a few times he'd pull off with a wet pop to let his hand stroke over more. He kept his mouth open, let the head of Jean's dick sit on his tongue, while he jerked him off and it was so...dirty and hot that Marco forgot it was himself he was watching and moaned.

He was almost positive Dream Marco smiled at him before taking Jean back into his mouth fully and getting back to work.  

He watched and kissed Jean, nibbling at his lips and sucking his tongue and drowning in the sounds he made mixed with the obscene wet noises the other him made while sucking Jean off. It was good and weird but mostly good.

Right up he felt fingers brush over his stomach. He thought dimly, thoughts a little slowed, that it was strange that Jean had a hand on the back of his neck and on his chest and on his stomach. Then the hand dove into his sleep shorts and took hold of him. He yelped, eyes widening, and whipped his head around to stare at the other him.

Who managed to look innocent even with a dick in his mouth and his hands in Marco’s shorts. He moved his hand, warm and a little too dry and confined by his shorts, but still more that Marco had going on a second ago. His toes curled into the sand; he wasn't sure if he wanted to push up into the firm grip or kick himself.

Jean made a grumpy questioning noise, lips dragging over Marco's jaw, then hummed.

“...okay. that's kinda...shorts off maybe?”

Marco stared at Jean, who had the grace to look sheepish, but his focus was pulled back to the other him. Who had released his erection in favor of making a valiant effort to get his shorts off of him. Marco considered for a second where this fell on the scale of things, some form of masturbation or near incest, then lifted his hips to aid in the process.

It was just a dream after all and another version of himself touching his dick wasn't...okay it was weird. But basically jerking off and he did a ton of that so he was pretty sure he could live with it. It was basically what he did on his own.

Dream Marco wrapped a hand around him again, thumb pressing just under the head of his dick just like Marco liked. The other him smiled faintly then, with no warning, licked Marco's cock. He jumped then moaned as the other him tongued the slit.

Okay, that was *not* what he did on his own and it was very weird and oh fuck, the other him took his cock into his mouth.

It was hot and wet and his tongue was pushing up against him, soft but rough. A hand pushed against his hip, holding him in place, and it was a good thing because there was delicious suction around him and he nearly jerked up into the dripping heat.

Jean made a noise and a hand touched his shoulder as his friend, now sitting up, leaned closer. “Best dream ever.”

Jean was a pervert. Not that Marco was on a position to judge since he was clawing at the sand and shaking while a dream version of himself sucked his dick or anything. Really well, not that he had anything to compare it to. But still. The way Jean was watching, like it was the most amazing thing he'd ever seen, strongly implied ‘pervert’ to Marco.

That said he agreed. Best dream ever.

He couldn't do anything but lie there, Dream Marco’s head moving between his thighs, sucking and licking while his hand worked what he couldn't get to  A tightness was building inside of him, low in his stomach and in his balls, and he was biting his lip in an effort to hold back because, dream or not, it would be embarrassing to blow it less than a minute into things.

He had some pride.

Which he almost lost hold of when he saw that Jean was touching himself, hand moving up and down in time with Dream Marco’s mouth. Marco breathed in deeply, trying to steel himself, then pulled what brain cells he had left together and reached to bat Jean's hand away and replace it with his own.

Jean was spit slick and twitching in his grasp. He didn't hesitate to push up into Marco’s hand, as he twisted and squeezed in a way he knew he liked, and amber eyes dropped to half mast. It didn't take long like that, Jean fucking into the circle of his hand while he jerked him off, before his friend was cursing and spilling over his hand in hot spurts.

Dream Marco let him slip from his mouth slowly and sat back on his heels, watching them. Marco wasn't sure if he was grateful or not and settled for saying nothing as he wiped his hand on his discarded shirt. Jean was quiet except for the sound of his heavy breathing and it stretched on long enough that Marco started to feel a little concerned. He exchanged a look with himself and got a shrug in reply.

Well at least they were both confused.

“Jean?”

“Marco,” Jean sounded strained and breathless. “I want you to fuck me. ...if that's okay.”

Marco’s heart jumped into his throat and he could only respond with a throaty whine. Which was a yes, or maybe a ‘well, I've never done that but I've watched tons of porn so I guess we could give it a go.’

And maybe a little ‘this is your dream so what you say goes and no, I don't belong here, but do you always ask so politely?’

“Is that a yes?” Jean was, thankfully, good at translating ‘rapidly melting brain’ to human and grinned down at him crookedly. Marco nodded enthusiastically.

They moved around again, an air of nervous anticipation between them. After a little fumbling they ended with Jean on his stomach, head in Dream Marco’s lap, and legs spread for him to kneel between in what Marco was sure was the most tempting display he'd ever see. Jean's ass was round and perky and, when he gave in to the urge and squeezed it, firm. He gave in to another desire and bent to bite lightly at the curved flesh, smiling when Jean's body jerked in surprise. He bite again, on the other cheek, a little harder then followed it with a excessively wet lick. He gripped Jean’s ass again, spreading him for his eyes to drink in. His pucker was pink and wrinkled, so small that even with years of porn (and a not inconsiderable amount of self exploration) under his belt Marco was skeptical about what they were about to do.

Also curious about something.

Mostly curious.

He must have been staring too long because an impatient huff broke the relative silence.

“Don't make me kick you.” Jean twisted around to glare down at him. “Do something.”

Marco nodded what he hoped was solemnly then, when Jean turned back around, bent closer to drag his tongue down the crack of his ass. Jean jumped but a hand pressing on the small of his back kept him from going far.

“What-?”

He was working on theory and second hand knowledge here (Thanks to Reiner and his big mouth. And long tongue, supposedly, though Bertholdt had refused to confirm) and he was pretty sure if he stopped to clarify he'd lose his nerve.

So instead he licked over Jean's entrance. The other teen tried to jerk away again, hissing his name, and Marco grinned. Another lick, less tentative, and another with the flat of his tongue; no words this time, just heavy breathing and a whispery gasp, which Marco took as a good sign. He became more confident, working his tongue over Jean more firmly, and was rewarded with louder sounds and squirming.

He used his thumb to spread Jean open a little then flicked the tip of his tongue inside of him before tracing along the rim.

“Fuck!” Jean shouted, shifting under him.

He could feel his muscles tightening then relaxing under his hand and a tremble that was working its way through his body. He pressed the tip of his tongue in again, this time twisting it to really lick inside of him. He was tense and tight but as Marco alternated between long messy touches outside and quick presses inside Jean began to unwind, loosening up and settling down, legs shifting further apart and knee bending to give him better access.

When Marco pushed more of his tongue inside, sealing his lips over his entrance and sucking, it was a deep, wet, and muffled sound that came from Jean. He picked his head up to look, already pretty sure about what was going on up there, and found that Jean was putting his mouth to use as well. Dream Marco was cradling the back of his head, hips moving minutely as Jean moaned around his dick, and dark brown eyes were glazed and blown wide as they met Marco’s.

Something stirred in Marco, arousal and that stab jealousy again. He didn't say anything about it and put his face back against Jean's ass, determined to make what he was doing good. He slide his tongue in and out of Jean, well aware that his face was becoming a wet spit covered mess, licking and sucking. He made tight circled inside of Jean, curling his tongue here and there to gauge the reaction and repeating what seemed to make those filthy muffled sounds get the loudest and got Jean to push back against him.

He used his teeth to lightly scrape against his rim, hoping that Reiner hadn't been bullshitting him, and Jean’s back arched as a hand came down to grip his hair.

“S-stop.” He hummed a question and Jean gasped before yanking at his hair sharply. “I’m...I'm gonna come if you keep doing that.”

Marco wasn't entirely sure why that was a problem but he let himself be dragged away without complaint. His jaw had been starting to ache and he had been thinking it was time to change course anyway (though the sounds Jean had been making had made it hard to commit to that course of action.) He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as he looked Jean over again. He was on his knees now, legs spread, cock hard again and curved up towards his stomach, ass up and wet with Marco’s spit, breathing hard against Dream Marco’s thigh, hair falling into his face, and dragging his tongue over swollen lips.

Marco committed the image to his memory before clearing his throat. “Did you still want-”

“Yes, I still want.” Jean looked like he was falling apart but he managed to push some bite and irritation into his words all the same. “One of you needs to do something, now.”

Marco frowned at the other him who offered him a half smile that he was sure meant ‘if you don’t I will’. Or maybe not, since he was a figment of Jean’s imagination and probably not feeling the same need to compete that Marco was and…

Whatever.

He rubbed a finger around Jean’s asshole, watching it clench and flutter, then looked around. This he had experience with (on himself) and he knew they were missing a key element here. Or, he considered for a moment, maybe not. It was a dream after all so maybe lube was optional? It wasn’t like things had to make sense here…

But, on that note, this was a dream and he was a witch who was at his best in dreams. He pictured what he wanted and, with a soft pop, a small clear bottle appeared in his hands. Not exactly magic so much as manipulation of dream ‘logic’ but it hardly mattered and he wasn’t sure why he was even thinking about it at a time like this.

He poured what was probably too much lube over his fingers (Somewhere, completely uninvited, he could see Bertholdt cringing and saying ‘There is no such thing as too much.’). He brushed his fingers over Jean’s asshole, watching it flutter, then pushed one inside easily. He was hot and slick inside, clenching around his finger and grunting sweetly as Marco twisted his finger and pressed deeper and fuck fuck fuck.

He wrapped a hand around his own dick, willing himself to calm down. He was supposed to be becoming less likely to blow his load instantly, not more likely.

“Two.” Jean said. “‘S fine. You and your fucking tongue…”

He didn’t finish what he was saying, turning his head to push his face into Dream Marco’s thigh, but Marco had it figured out. He moved his finger in and out slowly, swallowing to get rid of the tightness in his throat and chest, before pulling back to add another finger. A tighter fit this time, but if Jean minded it didn’t show. Marco mimicked what he knew he liked (of course the angle was completely different and it kind of felt different and who knew was Jean liked), moving his fingers together in slow circles and pushing against Jean’s walls to stroke and rub, paying attention to the sensitive rim when he dragged out. Jean’s voice was muffled by Dream Marco’s dick again but it did little to hide that he was enjoying himself.

By the time he was working a third finger in and spreading them apart Jean was pushing back into his hand, chasing after Marco’s fingers on every slide out. He wasn’t sure if watching his fingers move in and out of Jean, stretching him wider and wider, or how fucking eager the other teen was for it was better.

Would Jean be like this, literally gagging for it, outside of his dreams?

Jean’s foot nudged his leg impatiently. “Put your dick in me, asshole.”

Marco bit back a laugh and crooked his fingers down in search of-Ah. His fingers rubbed over a slightly raised spot, different from the rest, and Jean shouted. He actually kicked him after that and, though not that hard, and Marco did laugh as he repeated the motion. He didn’t let up, massaging Jean with gentle circular strokes, until the other was shaking and he could see long raised lines on Dream Marco’s skin where he was being clawed out and teeth impression where he’d been bitten.

Not that he had a problem with it judging by the blissed out expression on his (their?) face  

Marco decided, as he pulled his fingers free to pour drip more lube on them, that he liked seeing Jean slowly coming undone to a point that he couldn’t even get shitty with him. He hadn’t thought there was anything that could really stop all that biting sarcasm.

He slicked himself then lined himself up with Jean, hesitating for a moment. This wasn’t exactly real but it was real, real enough, and it was Jean and it just...it seemed big. Like the sort of thing that needed someone to say something before it happened.

“Marco.” Jean croaked. “Now!”

He laughed again and it sounded strangely high pitched to his ears, then nodded. One hand held onto Jean’s hip as he carefully pushed in. It was in his head to go slow, for various reasons, but once he was watching Jean stretch to fit him, watching his dick sliding in, and feeling that snug softness practically sucking him in that fell right out of his head. He snapped his hips forward hard, head dropping forward as he did, and pulled Jean back at the same time. Their bodies met with a wet smack and Marco was lost for a few shuddering breaths.

Jean pushed his face against Dream Marco again but Marco could see a hint one of his eyes, almost comically wide, and hear him panting desperately. He swallowed then ran a hand over Jean’s back.

“Okay?” A nod. “Move?”

His answer came in the form of Jean rocking back against him. It couldn’t get much more direct than that or the way his body jerked and he groaned, shaky and with feeling, when Marco pulled back then sank back in.

He tried to start slow but Jean was clinging and clenching around him so nicely it was near impossible to not push in harder and faster, to seek more of him. Shallow thrusts lengthened and he snapped his hips forward to bring them together in a way that dragged strangled moans out of Jean and made Marco’s head swim.

They moved together, Jean’s hips raising and following him when he pulled away then grinding in a circle when he slammed back in. It was hot, the air felt like it was simmering with heat, and everything was wet and slippery but it was so good, too good, going to be over too fast.

Especially if he kept watching where he was sliding into Jean and listening to the increasingly needy noises that were starting to sound an awful lot like his name mingled with ‘please’ and ‘more’ and ‘yes’.

He looked up and found himself staring into lust darkened eyes. His first thought was that he probably looked just like, hair stuck to his face with sweat and eyes nearly black. His second thought was that he was pretty sure he knew how he could end this without getting off first.

He slipped one hand from Jean’s hip to around him then leaned back, hauling Jean with him. There was a moment where he was worried it wasn’t going to work and that it was all going to go mortifyingly wrong but then they were both up on their knees with Jean flush against his body; the change in angle made them both groan. He could feel Jean’s body shaking with each panting breath he took.

“What the fuck?”

The other him didn’t need to be told what to do. He moved onto all fours then crawled closer until he was in front of them, face hovering just above Jean’s cock. He glanced up to meet Marco’s eyes and, after he nodded, leaned down to drag his tongue over the tip of Jean’s dick. Jean shouted, body spasming around Marco tightly, and one hand latched onto Dream Marco’s hair.

“Wait wait. Shit.”

Marco smiled at how breathless and frantic Jean’s voice was then, exchanging another look with Dream Marco, rocked up into Jean. The other him sank down on Jean’s dick, lips stretched wide, andJean let out a strangled cry. His body fluttered and trembled around Marco and one of his hands shot up to grab at at him and grip the back of his head.

Dream Marco hummed, cheeks hollowing out as he began moving up and down over Jean’s dick, and Jean’s other hand came down on the back of his head to grip dark strands tightly. Marco thrust up and he could tell he’d done it just right because Jean’s face twitched, froze, eyes wide. Marco repeated it, using his hands to slide Jean up a little further then driving in harder.

“Fuck, Marco!” Jean hissed. His hips jerked up and forward, pushing deeper in Dream Marco’s mouth and dragging himself up on Marco’s dick. Marco dragged him back until they were flush against each other, grunting softly as he sank into Jean as deep as he could, trying to keep the same angle. Jean’s head tipped back and a shuddery noise fell from his lips as he went limp, slumping back into Marco’s arms.

Marco might have laughed more or maybe he said nothing at all, too entranced at the sight of Jean, eyes wide and glassy, mouth open and wet, to be able to think much at all.

It was surprisingly easy to find a rhythm between the three of them and Marco didn’t know if that was a dream thing or if the fact Jean had basically fallen apart and become limp and compliant was at work. Marco fucked up into him and used his hands to help Jean bounce up and then drag him back, fingers digging into sweaty skin greedily. The other him followed, swallowing Jean down when he moved up and letting him slip between his lips when Marco pulled him down. He was taking in more than he was before, Jean’s cock going in almost to the root, and making dirty gurgling noises and went straight to Marco’s dick.

When Jean came it was with a hitched breath and a tugging on Marco’s hair as his eyes slammed shut and his back bowed. He became vice tight as he spasmed around Marco who did his best to fuck him through his orgasm. The prickle of pain from how tightly his hair was being yanked and the rippling of Jean’s passage around him helped drag him over the edge as well and, just as Jean was starting to settle into a limp heap, he finished with a few messy frantic thrusts.

Marco shook, stars on the back of his eyelids and knees aching, as he spilled into Jean. He stayed tight against the other, chest plastered to his back with sweat, and felt him shivering. Lips pressed against him face, wet and open mouthed over his jaw and cheek before finding his mouth.

When he came down, and untangled himself from Jean who was still shaking and mewled when Marco slipped free of him, he was reminded that there was someone else. Jean slumped onto his side, blinking dazedly and looking very much down for the count.

Marco held out a hand and the other him didn’t waste any time in crawling onto him, legs wrapping around his waist. Marco wrapped his hand around his cock; it was like steel covered in velvet, hard and heavy, in his hand. Lips pressed against the corner of his mouth and, too tired and blissed out to really care, Marco turned his head to meet him in a kiss. It was chaste in comparison to kissing Jean, lips and a few light touches of tongue but no more. His hand was still a little slick and Dream Marco was all too happy to thrust into the tight circle of his fingers until he came, messy and hard but without a noise, across Marco’s hand and both their stomachs.

Dream Marco slumped against him, head in the crook of his neck and nipping at him playfully. A soft sigh to the side had them both looking towards Jean.

“Seriously.” He said, grinning sleepily. “Best dream.”

**Author's Note:**

> Does Jean realize something is up? Maybe. You will notice he only refers to Marco as 'Marco' once he pops up and is very very polite about things. /Shrug. Just something to ponder over on this day, Marco's birthday.
> 
> Ohhh. I realize now this isn't mentioned/fleshed out well, but they're at a camp for magic users so odds are 50/50 that Jean knows Marco is a dream walker. I feel like Marco doesn't talk about it much (it freaks people out) but Jean's his bff so...anyway. *shrug* The porn has background, okay?


End file.
